Trusting Lies
by Fatal-Breath
Summary: Draco finds Harry in the Forbidden Forest, and promptly faints.  Harry, noble man he is, decides against leaving Draco to freeze to death, and takes him to the headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix. Many adventures thereafter.
1. Harry, Draco, And A Rock In A Clearing

**Trusting Lies**

**Chapter One:**

This is what he needed; it's what he wanted. To get away from it all, to leave it all behind him. He had made a mistake, one that could never be corrected. But he hoped that he could try to make things better. He knew he didn't deserve a second chance, but he had to ask for one anyways. He could help. He knew things, had heard things that might be of aid. They might try to arrest him. He would understand, and go quietly. All he wanted was for them to listen to him, for if they didn't he might go mad.

The moon was large and full in the winter sky, what was visible between the dense trees. Draco pulled his ragged cloak tighter around him, but it did no good; it was more holes than material now. He trudged through the snow, not knowing exactly where he was going, but he needed to keep moving, needed to get away.

He came to the end of the Forbidden Forest. If he took one more step, he would be walking once more on those grounds that had housed so many years of his life. He could see Hagrid's hut, dark and empty and cold. And further in the distance the castle loomed, a formidable structure of stone. He longed to return there, but he could not. Just looking at it made him feel unclean. He changed direction, and continued walking in the Forest.

Despite his misgivings, Draco was thinking of the Hogwarts feasts, where he could eat anything and as much as he liked, and where he would be warm. As if to remind him of what he had done, his body began to shiver violently, desperate for warmth. He needed shelter; he could do nothing if dead. But he no longer knew where he was. For the past hour and a bit he had been walking along the edge of the Forest, keeping the Hogwarts grounds in sight. The he suddenly lost them. That had been some while back. He now wandered aimlessly, hoping against hope to stumble onto a cave, a burrow, something. Instead, he walked into a clearing in the forest. It wasn't very large, and in the centre of it was a great boulder. Draco squinted his eyes. On top of the boulder sat a person, a somewhat familiar person. Draco could see something dark and shiny flowing down the rock, spreading out once it reached the ground. It was blood. He gasped. The figure atop the stone turned towards the noise, glasses catching the moonlight.

"Potter?" Draco managed to croak, before falling over in a dead faint, his body unable to handle any more.

Harry was tired of the old house, tired of the people who were there and the memories of the ones who were no longer. Tired of not having enough space to think. He needed to get out, go anywhere. He was now of legal age to conduct magic, so, when things had quieted down and everyone had gone to sleep, he stepped outside and Disapparated. He sorely hoped no one had heard him leave.

He had had no definitive destination in mind, so he was rather surprised when he arrived in Hogsmeade. He looked around at the village, so different at night, and unconsciously buttoned up his jacket. His breath misted in front of him, and for a while he just stood there in the silence. Then, as if seized by realization, Harry turned on his heels and traipsed towards the only place that had ever felt like home to him; or, used to.

Hogwarts sparkled in the moon's rays, as snow began to fall again. Here and there Harry could see where fires flickered inside, and a dull yearning grabbed hold of him, a yearning he crushed quickly. He no longer belonged at Hogwarts. He had a mission to do, to find the Horcruxes, and that took precedence in Harry's mind. Personally, he had been surprised when he had received an owl stating that the school was to remain open. But, like Ron and Hermione, he had already determined at the end of last year, what with everything that had happened, that he would not return. And now, Harry didn't think that Hogwarts would ever feel the same again anyways. Dumbledore was gone, and with him had disappeared a piece of Hogwarts. Harry felt out of place already, just walking the grounds. He was to blame for all of this. If only Voldemort hadn't marked _him_ out from the Prophecy. If only he hadn't been born, then none of this would have happened. He parents would still be alive. Cedric would be alive. Sirius would be alive. Dumbledore would be alive.

_Would it all really be like that? If you had never been born, then wouldn't Voldemort still have his powers? There would be no famous Harry Potter to put a stop to him._

Harry silenced the voice in his head. No, everything would have been better. Surely someone else would've destroyed Voldemort, and far more effectively than he had. Harry had only managed to destroy his powers; Voldemort was still alive, and now he was nearly as strong as before. Surely…surely someone else might've had the chance to actually kill Voldemort, if Harry hadn't gotten in the way and given everyone false hope. A hope that had now been crushed.

He sighed and looked about him. He didn't want to go back to number twelve Grimmauld Place, but he didn't want to stand here any more. He headed down the sloping grounds towards the lake, now frozen over. It was steely grey and smooth as glass. Below the surface Harry could swear he saw the giant squid swim by. But maybe it was just his imagination. He looked over at Hagrid's hut, but Hagrid was with the Order; he knew it would be silent. And still, he felt awkward and had no place to go, so his feet mindlessly took him towards the Forbidden Forest.

_The perfect place for an outcast_, he thought bitterly. And now he knew where he was headed.

During one of his many adventures – they seemed so long ago – into the Forest, Harry happened upon a unique spot in the Forest. That is where he trekked now. He had no idea where it was located in the wild growth, but he inertly knew how to get there.

After much brushing through frozen branches he walked into a clearing. There, in the centre, sat a rock, as he knew it would. He climbed up it and sat himself down, heedless of the cold seeping up from beneath him. He deserved no comforts. For the longest time he sat, again in silence, letting his mind chase thought after thought after thought, dwelling upon the past, upon mistakes, upon tragedies. Suddenly Harry removed his wand from his pocket. His contemplating had kindled an anger deep inside, long-ago regrets rising to the surface. Trembling with rage, Harry pointed his wand at his left hand and muttered a spell. Then, as if carved by a blade, the shape of a dog formed, drawn into flesh and blood. The Grim. Sirius. Harry clenched his teeth as the pain increased, ripping into his skin, marring the scar already there from Umbrige: _I must not tell lies._ Blood flowed freely, dripping from his hand onto the rock, onto the snow. When the image was finished, Harry switched his wand and did the same to his other hand, a different form appearing. A phoenix. Fawkes, for Dumbledore; and a small letter "C", for he had no image to represent Cedric. More blood added to that already spilt, freezing to the rock and snow. When the second figure was done, Harry held up his hands. On the back of each was now implanted a representation of someone who had died in front of him; a warning, that he could never forget and never forgive himself. There, on his hands, were the symbols of his latest mistakes, to remind him forever of his inabilities and stupidity. He felt hot tears roll down his cheeks and wiped them away fiercely; he had no use for tears anymore.

He spun around wildly when he heard a small gasp. A boy stood at the edge of the clearing, staring at Harry. The moonlight shined on silver hair and a pointed face. It was Malfoy.

"Potter?" Harry heard his name whispered, and had barely time to register it before Malfoy fell over, apparently unconscious.

Harry slowly lowered himself off the rock, keeping his wand towards Malfoy. He was known to pull sly tricks to bring down his enemies, and Harry wasn't going to take the chance. Anger bubbled up once more, but at the same time a sort of pity grabbed hold as well. Harry could remember that one particular night, the night that Dumbledore had been murdered, as if it was happening again before his eyes, and Harry had not forgotten that Malfoy had lowered his wand, that he didn't want to kill Dumbledore. He could remember Malfoy's fear that Voldemort would kill him and his family if he didn't comply. Finally, pity won out and Harry moved forward and gently rolled Malfoy onto his back; and faltered. The moonlight highlighted Malfoy's state. While having always been a thin boy, Malfoy looked starved. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyelids were black. The wrist that lay closest to Harry was so thin, the bone jutting out, that Harry feared if he grabbed it the bone would break. And perhaps most unusual for Malfoy was the state of his clothes. Malfoy typically dressed impeccably, with the best cuts and materials. Now his clothes were nothing but rags, barely enough material to stay on the body. Harry could even see flashes of pale skin beneath the clothes. This couldn't be Draco Malfoy. It couldn't be. But it was. Harry knew not what to do; he couldn't leave him here like this, but it would be a terrible thing to take him to the location of the Order, seeing as how Malfoy _did_ belong to the other side. But, knowing he had nowhere else to take him, Harry resigned himself and bent down and carefully lifted up Malfoy, who weighed almost nothing. Carrying him, Harry took him down to Hogsmeade, where he Disapparated, to take an enemy right into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.


	2. Lupin's Tears

**Chapter Two:**

Grimmauld Place was a riot when Harry Apparated outside the gate, Malfoy still in his arms. He could see shapes running back and forth across the lighted windows, apparently searching for something. Harry's stomach squirmed with guilt; they were looking for him. As if he needed more evidence, Lupin opened the door and, upon seeing Harry, let out a loud sigh of relief and ran towards him. Even though Harry saw him nearly every day right now, he still felt a jolt when he took in Lupin's appearance. His weight had dropped drastically and, even though Harry had encouraged him to get new ones, Lupin's clothes were as shabby as every. His hair now had more grey in it than brown, and it seemed that every day a new line appeared on his face. Harry had hoped that with his new-found relationship with Tonks he might improve. As it were, no such luck.

Lupin stopped in his tracks when he saw that Harry was carrying someone.

"Oh my," whispered Lupin, and ran faster towards Harry. He lifted the figure out of Harry's arms, and when the head lolled back, Lupin's eyes widened in shock. He looked at Harry.

"Harry, surely this can't be—? Do you really—? I mean…a Malfoy?"

"I didn't know where else to take him," Harry replied, gazing up at Lupin.

"No, no, I guess not." But the shock was still in Lupin's voice as he headed back towards the house, Harry following.

Almost as soon as he stepped in the door he was confronted by Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Harry, where in god's name have you been?" Her face was white with anger and fright, and the guilt Harry felt grew.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just, I needed to get away for a bit."  
"Away? Away!" Mrs. Weasley's voice reached a rather impressive octave. "You can't just leave like that, in the middle of the night! No one knew where you had gone! We all thought…" she died off, unable to finish.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "But I'm not dead, am I? Else I wouldn't be standing here." She flinched as if he had slapped her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry everyone. But I really just wanted to get out of here for a bit. Sometimes…sometimes it gets to be too much." He looked around him, and was startled to see a tear falling from Lupin's closed eyes. He turned away hurriedly.

Mrs. Weasley's face fell, her anger replaced with sympathy. "Harry, I know it must be hard for you, being in this house." Behind him, Lupin swallowed audibly. Mrs. Weasley continued. "But you must know we have only your best intentions in mind. Dear, you can't just go wandering off like that. Please. You, of all us, know best what's out there, and, oh, I couldn't bear it if we lost you." The last was said in a whisper, and a heavy quiet fell. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to look at Lupin, and the body in his arms.

"Goodness, that's not…is it?"

"Draco Malfoy, yes," said Harry.

She flattened against the wall to let Lupin past, following him to the empty bedroom. As he laid Malfoy on the bed, Mrs. Weasley bustled forward to take a look on him.

"But what on earth is he doing here?" she wondered aloud.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I found him, or rather, he found me, and then passed out. I didn't know what else to do, so I brought him here. I couldn't leave him there."

Mrs. Weasley's cast a scrutinizing eye at Harry. "Where did you go?"

"I, uh, I sort of went to Hogwarts, and then into the Forbidden Forest. That's where I found him—him me."

"You went into the Forest? You know how dangerous that is!"

"I know, I know," he said quickly, wanting to quell Mrs. Weasley's temper before she got started. "Trust me, I know. It just sort of happened, I guess. I can't really explain it, I just ended up there. And then I saw Malfoy, and he fainted, and now I'm here."  
Mrs. Weasley made an exasperated noise, and turned her concentration on Malfoy. She ran her wand the length of him, trying to detect any illness. When she was satisfied, she pocketed her wand again and faced Harry.

"He's half starved to death, but right now what he really needs is sleep. There's no point in bothering him until the morning." They left the room, and she shut the door quietly behind her. "But Harry," she said, looking at him, "do you know what you are doing? The Malfoys are with You-Know-Who, surely you know this?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I couldn't just leave him to die, though. And remember how I told you last year that Malfoy—Draco—, though he had to chance to, didn't kill Dumbledore, and that he had been threatened by Voldemort?" Mrs. Weasley gasped, but nodded. "I want to find out more about that," Harry finished. She said nothing, just walked Harry back to his bedroom. When they reached the door, Harry said goodnight and was about to close the door when Mrs. Weasley stopped him.

"Harry, just be careful around him. When he wakes, he can't hear or see too much, or he can't leave."

Harry listened to her footsteps receding, and closed the door and crawled into his bed. His mind raced with thoughts as he closed his eyes, making sleep hard to come by.

When Harry awoke, the sun hadn't even hit the horizon, but he could sleep no longer. He fumbled for his glasses and put them on, blinking sleep from his eyes. The glasses didn't help much, it was too dark, so he grabbed his wand and muttered "Lumos." A small light ignited at the tip of his wand, and using this he managed to hunt down some clean clothes and changed noiselessly. He went out into the hall and down the stairs, thinking perhaps of grabbing something to drink and waiting for Mrs. Weasley to cook up some breakfast, when he heard voices from the kitchen, speaking in low tones. He recognized Lupin's soft voice, and then another one, female: Tonks. That was odd, because he couldn't recall Tonks staying over last night. She was one who usually stayed only long enough to pass information, talk to Lupin, and perhaps have dinner, before she was gone again. Unless she had come during Harry's short adventure, or after he had finally fallen asleep. It was obviously a private conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him and Harry crept down the last few steps and to the kitchen.

"Nox," he whispered, putting out the light on his wand, and halted just beside the kitchen door. It had been left open a crack, so Harry didn't have to strain his ears to catch the conversation.

"…and still, you won't tell me what's wrong." That was Tonks.

"It's a bit more complicated than that. It's not just black-and-white," Lupin responded.

"Just tell me, Remus. Tell me why you suddenly decided you can't do this anymore."

"I told you when you first asked me. I'm too old, too battered, and a werewolf to top it off."

"But you know that that doesn't matter to me. How many times have I said that?" Tonks's voice wavered, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "There's another reason, I know there is."

"Tonks, I just think you deserve someone better."

For a few minutes neither said anything, and Harry was just getting ready to go into the kitchen, when:

"It's him, isn't it?"

Harry froze, wondering who Tonks could be talking about.

Apparently Lupin didn't know either. "Who?"

Tonks exhaled loudly. "You know who I'm talking about. Don't be an idiot, Remus, it doesn't suit you."

Lupin did not speak, so Tonks continued.

"Every time I mention his name, even in passing, or something that's connected to him you freeze up, or turn away or change the topic, and I'm tired of tiptoeing around it."

"Tonks, I really don't think now is the time to talk about this…"

"No," she said forcefully, "now is the only time to talk about it. Why won't you just answer my question?"

"It's not exactly an appropriate question—"

"Do you love him?"

Harry lost his balance and almost fell over, but managed to catch himself. He held his breath, listening if they had heard him. They hadn't.  
"I ask you again: do you love him?"

Some time had passed before Lupin answered, and when it came it nearly broke Harry's heart.

"I can't," he said pleadingly. "I can't anymore."

A chair scraped the floor, and Harry prepared to flee if someone should come out the door, but no one did. Harry dared a peek through the small slit. It seemed Tonks had gotten up only to go to Lupin, who had his face in his hands, and Harry could see the tears falling to the table. His breath caught, and Harry could feel a burning in his own eyes. He swallowed his tears and listened more to the conversation.

"Of course you can, of course you can." Tonks was making soothing noises, and wrapped her arms around Lupin's shoulders.

"No, I can't anymore." Lupin's voice was thick with emotion. "I can't, it hurts too much."

"That's part of love, darling. You win some, you lose some. But it's always worth it."

"But why did he have to leave me?" he asked in that same begging voice. "Why did he have to go? He only gave me two years with him, two years! And I've waited for him since I was fourteen. I've loved for him for so long, and he never acknowledged it, not until he got back from Azkaban. And now he's gone, and he can't come back." That last dissolved into silent tears, and Harry's tears joined Lupin's as he realized who he and Tonks were talking about: Sirius. Harry, who had been standing, slowly felt his body slide down wall, understanding for the first time that what Harry felt when he lost Sirius was nothing compared to how Lupin felt. He pulled his knees up to his face and rested his forehead on them, his tears wetting his jeans. After a bit, Harry raised his head and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. Tonks had begun to speak again.

"Just let it out, let it all out. You've held this in for far too long."

Lupin hiccoughed slightly, but had stopped crying. "You're not…you're not mad at me?" he asked dimly.

"No, dear one, I'm not mad. Well, a little mad, not because of you loving Sirius but because it took you so long to finally admit it."

"You knew? All along?"

Harry assumed Tonks had nodded, because then Lupin said:

"But if you knew, why did you want to start a relationship with me?"

"Because, well… you were so depressed, and I thought that if I managed to make you even just _like_ me, you might realize that there are things worth living for, and you might start taking care of yourself. And, I do love you."

"You-you do?"

"Yes, I do. But I also understand that you loved him too much to love another the same way. And even though you feel like dying a little inside anytime someone mentions him, understand that there are others here who love you and who are very sad at seeing you like this."

"But, I don't…like what?"  
Tonks replied patiently. "You don't eat. You sleep half the time, and the other

half you walk around like you're still asleep. You shut yourself away. I mean, the only times that you _pretend_ to care is when the kids are around, and you barely manage that. And I know for a fact that you are only doing that because you don't want them to see how you really feel. They aren't dumb, Remus. I'm pretty sure at least Hermione has figured it out."

Remus gave a sad chuckle. "She would, that one. She's too smart for her age."

"I think you should talk to Harry," stated Tonks.

"No. I can't. Why?"

"Because," she said, "He loved Sirius too, and I think he would understand best out of all of us how you feel."

Lupin was quiet. Tonks took this as a signal that Lupin didn't want to talk anymore, and got up.

"Just think about it, okay?" she implored. "You can't keep all that pain inside all the time, and neither can Harry. You're kindred spirits in this, and I think it will help both of you."

Lupin responded faintly. "When did you become such a psychiatrist? I never expected any of this from you."

Tonks's answer came from nearer the door, but Harry had no desire to hide.

"I hate to see you hurt yourself again and again over this. I don't think Sirius would have wanted that. I'll see you later, Remus."

She opened the kitchen door and headed to the front door, without seeing Harry. Harry sat where he was for a while longer, before deciding to go into the kitchen. When he walked in, Lupin again had his face in his hands, and once again Harry could see the tears falling. He walked mutely across the floor and kneeled down beside Lupin, placing his hand on Lupin's leg. Lupin started and looked down at Harry and was surprised to see tears swimming unshed in those green eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," whispered Harry. "I heard everything."

Lupin placed his hand on Harry's head, gently stroked the black hair. He couldn't say anything, and so the two of them sat in silence until the others started to wake up.

Mrs. Weasley bustled down before any of the others, and Harry and Lupin quickly separated and scrubbed their faces. She looked at the two of them when she entered.

"My, aren't you two up early? Well, Lupin, you can help me with breakfast then." She started pulling out pots and pans and lit the stove. When Harry got up to help as well, Mrs. Weasley waved her hand at him in dismissal.

"Not you, Harry dear. I want you to take up Mr. Malfoy's breakfast. He needs some food."

Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley, surprised. He had completely forgotten about Malfoy.


	3. The Insufferable Draco Malfoy

**Chapter Three:**

Harry knocked on Malfoy's door when he approached, but no answer came. He tried again, but still nothing. Taking a deep breath, he gently opened the door and entered the bedroom. All the curtains had been pulled shut last night and the room was black as pitch. He flicked the light switch by the doorframe, bathing the room in a dull glow. On the bed Malfoy twitched but remained asleep.

"Malfoy," Harry called, stepping closer. No response. "Malfoy."

Harry decided against trying to wake him and put the tray of food on the bedside table and left.

When Harry arrived back in the kitchen, everyone was already seated around the table. Mrs. Weasley was doling out large servings of porridge. Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione and pulled his porridge closer, digging in. Lupin caught Harry's eye and gave him a small smile then turned back to Mad-Eye Moody, who was discussing his thoughts on what the Death Eaters and Voldemort were planning to do next.

"They've got the Ministry now, but who're they going to claim for Minister, eh? It won't be You-Know-Who himself, no point."

"Why not?" interjected Ron.

"Because it would tie him down, you see. If he claimed the title of Minister, he would have to take on the Minister's job. And right now that isn't his priority." Moody's normal eye flickered to Harry quickly and back. "No, he'll choose someone to do the job for him, someone who'll do exactly as he tells them with no questions asked. It'll leave him free to do what he wants to do."

"But why can't he just become Minister and not do those odd jobs?" Ron said. "I mean, it's You-Know-Who, he doesn't exactly follow rules."

"I thought you'd know better, Weasley," growled Moody. "There are certain magical bonds that come with the job, bonds that I doubt even You-Know-Who could break. They are put there because usually the person who becomes Minister _wants_ to be Minister, wants to do the job. It's just an extra precaution to avoid getting a real dumb-ass in office. You-Know-Who doesn't want to do the job, but if he chose to become Minister he would be obliged to do it through the bonds. So, he'll pick someone, or Imperius them or something, to do as he tells them and to take care of all the little things that You-Know-Who won't. He might even keep Scrimgeour, if he can compel him enough."

Harry drifted away from the rest of the conversation. He was thinking about how he was going to break it to the rest of the group about having a Malfoy in their midst. By the time he finished his breakfast, he could only think of one way to do it. He got up from his chair and waited for everyone to fall silent. When they did, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I, er, I've got a bit of news. Um, you all know now about my little…rendezvous last night. Well, I've got something to add to that." He looked to Mrs. Weasley, who nodded at him, so Harry continued. "I'm saying this because I don't want it to be a shock, but, uh, I brought back Malfoy with me last night – Draco Malfoy." A few gasps went up around the table, and some mutterings. "He was unconscious," Harry added hurriedly, "so he didn't see where we are. He's actually still asleep, so, um, yeah. I just thought I should tell you, because I honestly didn't know what else to do with him."

For a while after this speech no one said anything. Then:

"Malfoy?" Hermione's whisper seemed to break the spell, and suddenly everyone started talking at once.

"That dirty piece of scum –," that was Fred, while George just nodded in agreement.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were speaking to each other, obviously continuing a discussion they had started last night. In fact, the only people who weren't saying anything were Lupin and Harry. Lupin merely surveyed the crowd and Harry was waiting for someone to ask the obvious question.

"But why, Harry?" asked Bill. His scarred face looked deeply puzzled. "He's with You-Know-Who. How could you think of bringing him here?"

"I told you," Harry countered. "I didn't know what else to do. Where was I supposed to take him, exactly? I'm Harry Potter. I couldn't just walk into St. Mungo's, it's under Ministry influence. And in case you hadn't heard, Voldemort's taken over the Ministry. Oh, I know, I'll just walk up to Malfoy Manor, even though I have no idea where it is, and tell Lucius I've got his son. No chance he'll take me to Voldemort, is there? Or even better, I could've left him to die." Harry knew he was being unreasonable, but he was tired and frustrated because he knew he had made a mistake. "Look," he said, "I know he shouldn't be here, I know I've put us all in danger, but…what was I supposed to do?"

Harry took his seat again. Ron leant in to Harry and muttered, "I would've let him die, mate."

"Ron," hissed Hermione sharply. "Don't say that. Harry, you did the right thing. I just wish it wasn't Malfoy."

"So do I, Hermione. So do I."

He left the table and went back to his room. Soon he heard two sets of footsteps up the stairs and a knock on the door. He grunted, which was obviously taken for consent, and Ron and Hermione pushed themselves inside.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "We just…we came to, you know, talk to you about…about…"

"Do you have a plan?" Ron interrupted when he realized Hermione wasn't going to say it.

Harry knew exactly what they were talking about, and flopped onto his bed. "I don't know. I mean, I know what I'm supposed to be looking for, but I don't know where or how. There's a whole wide world out there, and we have to narrow it down to six places…well, five, minus the ring. And now we have to figure out this _RAB_ and where the locket's been moved, and…" he sighed and sat up slowly. "There's so much to think about, and I don't even know exactly _what_ to think about." He rubbed his eyes with his hands, and looked up quickly when Hermione gasped.

"Harry, what happened to your hands?"

Harry looked at the back of his hands. He had forgotten about the cuttings, and was now starting to regret them.

"Well, they're just, erm, just reminders, of my mistakes."

Ron gave Harry a pitying look, but Hermione's eyes blazed fiercely.

"They weren't your mistakes. They weren't anyone's mistakes! You can't blame yourself for everything, you know. You can't be accounted for everyone's actions."

"It seems like it," he murmured.

"No," she grabbed his hands tightly and held them in her own, "you can't. So stop blaming yourself, please. You have to realize that what's done is done, and you can't change the past. Sirius and Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted you to do this to yourself."

Harry pulled his hands away angrily. "You don't know what they would have wanted, no one can know now."

"You're right, mate," Ron said, "no one can know. But I'm pretty sure they wouldn't want you mutilating yourself, and neither would Cedric, if I'm right in guessing what the 'C' is for."

Harry said nothing, only looked at his hands. He rubbed his thumb over the carving of the dog, feeling the scabbed, raised skin. Sirius had lost his family and friends, because of Voldemort. What would he have done in Harry's situation? Harry exhaled tiredly.

"We need to think of something, of possibilities and what to do. I can't wait much longer."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Ron nodded at her, and Hermione spoke:

"Ron and I have been talking about the locket, and we've come up with an idea. No, please, just listen," she asked, when she saw Harry open his mouth to argue. "It's not much to go on, but it's more than we've got right now. We think that _RAB_ might well be Sirius's brother, Regulus."

Harry shut his mouth. He had wanted to ask why Ron and Hermione had been talking without him, but her suggestion tossed it all out his head. Regulus Black. What was his middle name? Would anyone know? Harry's eyes widened with hope. Someone might know, someone who was downstairs eating breakfast right now.

"Regulus," he said excitedly. "It could be. I need to speak to Lupin; Sirius might've mentioned his brother to him before, and maybe he knows Regulus's full name. This is great," he said to Hermione and Ron, who gave him relieved smiles. They had expected a full-sized, patented Harry Potter blow-up, not this. But they weren't complaining.

"Let him finish breakfast," Ron said. "He looks even more tired than usual today, poor bloke." Hermione gaped at him. "What?" he asked uncomfortably. "I can be considerate sometimes."

"You're a fool, Ron Weasley," she replied in a way that could only be called as fond.

"How?" he asked indignantly, but Hermione chose not to respond.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I'll speak with him after breakfast." He heard a "thump" from upstairs, and looked up. So did Ron and Hermione.

"I suppose someone should check on Malfoy."

"Wait, Harry," Hermione implored. "We also wanted to ask you about that."

Harry was about to respond when a loud yell followed the "thump".

"Later," he said, getting upand leaving the room.

When Harry opened the door to Malfoy's room a strange sight met his eyes. Malfoy was out of bed but had the covers wrapped around him. The "thump" and the yell had been Malfoy tripping over the sheets and falling on his face. But that wasn't the strange part. Apparently Malfoy had felt sudden death urges towards the standing lamp, for he had his hands wrapped around the stem, throttling it. His eyes were closed and his face was screwed up in concentration. Harry turned his head around as he heard others come into the room.

Arthur and Molly Weasley bustled in front of Harry. Molly went straight to Malfoy and grabbed his shoulder. Or tried to, because Malfoy began to yell and flail as if he had been burned. Mrs. Weasley let go quickly and looked to her husband.

"Arthur, it's a nightmare. Do something."

Arthur pulled out his wand from his pocket, flicked it up and said an incantation which Harry couldn't hear over Malfoy's shouts.

On the floor, Malfoy suddenly stopped yelling and moving. His eyes shot open and landed on Mrs. Weasley kneeling over him. He screamed again and shuffled away, banging his back against the bed. Mrs. Weasley didn't move any closer, realizing it wasn't the best thing to do. Malfoy saw Mr. Weasley standing in the room with his wand out and pointed at Malfoy, and then Harry slightly behind him. Seeing Harry seemed overcome his comprehension, for he suddenly bellowed:  
"What in the bloody hell is going on?"

Mrs. Weasley gently shushed him. "It's alright. You're not dreaming anymore."

"I realized that," Malfoy spat. "I want to know why I'm obviously not dreaming and in a room with blood-traitors and Potter."

"Hey –!" Harry shouted, but was interrupted by Mr. Weasley.

"There's no need to be rude, young man. We will answer your questions as soon as you stop screaming at us."

Malfoy must've realized he was outnumbered because, though he glared malevolently, he said nothing.

"There," said Mr. Weasley jovially, "that's much better. So, what did you want to know?"

"What is going on?" Malfoy said through gritted teeth.

"Well, Harry brought you back with him last night after he said you collapsed in front of him."

"I did no such thing," said Malfoy indignantly.

Harry smirked. "No, of course you didn't. Malfoy's don't faint, eh? I guess it must be that I decided to put a spell on you and drag you back here for your _lovely_ company. That must be what happened, right?" He watched Malfoy's cheeks redden, but there came no response. Harry went on:

"So, say for the heck of it, you did actually faint, and you want to know what you're doing here? Well, I was trying to save you from freezing your ass off, but I think I'm starting to regret that decision."

"Harry, language!" admonished Mrs. Weasley. "And don't frighten the boy with such talk about him dying. It's not helping matters."

It was true. Malfoy's eyes had a steely glint in them and he was grinding his teeth, silently watching Harry. Harry glared back.

"What were you doing in the Forest?" he asked Malfoy, too tired to beat around the bush.

"What were _you_ doing in the Forest?" was the reply.

For the longest while no one said anything. Harry, having no patience, walked forward and grabbed Malfoy's shoulders, shaking him ungently.

"Malfoy, you are here only because I decided to make a stupid decision. For all you may, and probably will, deny it, I saved your life. You own me, you bastard, and I want answers. Now, tell me! What were you doing in the Forest?" He let go of Malfoy; he must have been shaking him hard because Malfoy stumbled and went down onto his knees. Harry didn't help him up. "Tell me!"

Mrs. Weasly ran to Malfoy and Mr. Weasley came and put his arm around Harry's shoulders, leading him away. Harry didn't fight. He had gone too far, but his anger was on a constant burner these days and Malfoy, the insufferable prick he was, wasn't helping. He had almost been led from the room, but Malfoy halted him as he fought off Mrs. Weasley.

"No! Leave me, I'm fine. Leave off, woman!"

Harry spun around, went to Malfoy and hauled him to his feet. He slammed him against the wall, hand around Malfoy's throat.

"Don't," Harry hissed, "dont-ever-talk-to-Mrs. Weasley-like-that-ever-again, you hear me?" He let Malfoy fall, and he crumpled to the floor again, coughing.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Arthur, take him away. Please, now!"

Mr. Weasley grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away. Harry followed, but never took his eyes off of Malfoy, who was still on the floor but had raised his face and was glaring death at Harry.

"You asshole," Malfoy's hoarse whisper bled venom. "I was in the Forest to get to Hogwarts, to look for someone from your precious Order so I could tell them what I knew. I've left the other side. But now I don't know why I should tell you."

Harry stared at him, ignoring Mr. Weasley's tugging hand. "Why should I believe you? You are a Malfoy, after all." He went with Mr. Weasley back down to the kitchen, which was now empty. Everyone else had gone already.


	4. Attempted Apology

**Chapter Four:**

Mr. Weasley nearly slammed the kitchen door behind him. His face was blotchy and red from restrained anger and Harry swore he could almost see steam billowing from his nostrils. He had never seen Mr. Weasley so mad before; Mrs. Weasley, yes, but not Mr. Weasley. He took the chair opposite from Harry and steepled his hands in front of his face, peering at Harry through them. He looked quite a bit like Dumbledore in this moment, minus the silver hair and beard, glasses, hat, and wrinkles. For a while they both just looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, unable to take Mr. Weasley's staring eyes. "I knew I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't help myself."

Mr. Weasley sighed, no longer looking like he was going to bludgeon Harry to death with a chair leg.

"Harry, what you did was completely impractical. That boy is disoriented and probably a little frightened." Harry snorted. "Oh come now, Harry, sure he's a Malfoy, but they get scared just like the rest of us. Well, actually, they might get scared more than the rest of us, but that's not the point. The point is, he is weak and frightened, and you stormed in there and now I've had to leave my wife alone in a room with a Malfoy and I don't like it. But you needed to be taken away and Molly's better at tending to people than I am. We all know you've been through a lot of things but we at least expected you to be old enough by now to control your actions."

"I'm sorry," Harry said again, not quite sure how else to respond to such statements.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to. You need to apologize to Mr. Malfoy." Harry opened his mouth to argue but Mr. Weasley cut him off. "No, you need to. He owes you his life, but that is no reason to treat someone the way you did, even a Malfoy."

"I don't recall you treating Lucius Malfoy nicely back in my second year in Flourish and Blott's," Harry said bitterly under his breath. Mr. Weasley didn't seem to hear but instead just continued watching Harry. "Fine, fine, I'll apologize to him."

"Today," Mr. Weasley said, ending the discussion.

After Mr. Weasley left, Harry let out a frustrated breath and raked his hands back through his hair.

"These Malfoys are going to be the death of me."

Lupin was sitting up in his bed, newspapers scattered all around him when a quiet knock came at the door. He looked up.

"Come in."

Harry poked his head through the now open door.

"Hey, Professor."

Lupin smiled. "How many times have I told you that I am no longer your Professor? I want you to call me Remus."

Harry smiled back. "I'll try, but old habits die hard."

Lupin put down the paper he was holding and cleared a spot for Harry to sit. "What can I do for you, Harry?"

Harry took the seat. "I need to know Sirius' brother's middle name."

Lupin's eyebrows rose, but a small curve twitched his lips. "Is that all? I'm assuming this has to do with the _RAB_ I always hear you and Ron and Hermione talking about?"

Harry's eyes widened and he looked at Lupin with shock written all over his face. "How'd you know?"

"Well, you three aren't exactly all that good at hiding your plans. You discuss them where anyone can hear." A slight flush crept into Harry's cheeks. "Don't worry, I don't think anyone else noticed, they were all too busy. I just happen to have a habit of listening to everything that goes on around me. You can thank your father and Sirius for that." A pained look crossed his face but was quickly wiped away. "Anyways, for your information, Regulus' middle name was 'Antonius', so that seems to fit your _RAB_."

Without any warning, Harry jumped up and threw his arms around Lupin. Taken by surprise, Lupin fell backwards, kicking up newspapers everywhere. Luckily the bed was very springy.

"Harry, what--?"

"Don't leave me, Remus."

"I-I don't think I quite understand."

Harry buried his face into Lupin's shoulders. "I don't think I could live if you left me too."

Lupin grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and gently pulled him back, trying to catch his eyes.

"I can't promise you that. You know I can't."

"Yes you can," Harry said desperately. "You can stay out of the fight, or run away and hide. You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do. I need to do this because You-Know-Who has taken everything from me. Don't you think that I've had the same thoughts about you? You're just a boy, and yet you have the pivotal role in this war. If I could I would hide you away, because it's hard to think about possibly losing you too."

Harry grabbed the hand that was in his hair and removed it. "But I'd feel so much better if I knew you were safe."

"And what about Ron and Hermione? Arthur? Molly? Tonks? What about everyone else? Harry, even if you convince me to hide, which you won't," he said to Harry's brightening face, "I'll have to leave you someday. We all die, some before their time. It would be better if you convinced Ron and Hermione to hide. They have more years ahead of them to live."

"I've tried already, Remus. Gods, I've tried so hard to ask everyone to leave and forget about the war. I want to protect everyone, but no one will listen to me. They all say the same thing: 'If we leave, who will be there to fight the war?' They look at me with pity if I say I will."

Lupin exhaled tiredly. "They're right, you know. If they all left, there'd be no one to fight You-Know-Who, and then, no matter how hard we try to hide, he'd find and kill us all. So you see, I do need to be here. We all do. We have to do this in order to assure ourselves that the next generation will live on without fear. So that you and Ron and Hermione can live without fear."

Harry's lip trembled. "But it's not worth it for me to live if you all die," he whispered, not looking at Lupin.

Lupin grabbed his chin and turned Harry's face to his own, but Harry's lashes were lowered. "Harry. Harry, look at me. Harry, please, look at me." Finally Harry did. "I can't promise you that none of us will die. Some probably will. But I can tell you that we will try our best to live. Now, I want you to take the information I gave you and do what you can to make the war a little easier on us. You got that?"

Harry nodded weakly.

Mrs. Weasley called from downstairs, asking people what they wanted for lunch. Both Harry and Lupin looked at the door, and that was when Lupin realized that Harry was still on top of him.

"Um, Harry, would you, uh, mind, uh, getting off of me? I need to get down to the kitchen, and that might be hard if you don't move."

Harry turned a deep red. "I-I'm sorry Professor. Oh Jesus. I'm so sorry."

Lupin chuckled. "Don't worry Harry, it's alright. If you get off me, we'll forget this ever happened.

Harry scrambled off hurriedly, face still red. "Professor, I--"

"Harry, it's already been forgotten. No harm done, see? And I ask you again to call me Remus. Now, let's go bother Molly with our orders."

Harry and Lupin came down together. When they reached the kitchen Harry was met with a fierce look from Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Remus. What would you like for lunch? I can make you beans on toast, or beef barley soup. Or both. I think you need both. Good." She sounded rather frazzled and Lupin knew it was best not to argue. Molly constantly made remarks about his weight.

"That would be lovely, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry. "Arthur told me your promise, so we've decided that you will not be getting any lunch until you do it."

Lupin looked at Harry. "What did you promise?"

"To apologize to Malfoy," said Harry bitingly.

"Oh."

Mrs.Weasley spun a ladle in her hand. Harry thought she might hit him with it.

"Okay, fine. I'll go now."

"Good luck, Harry," Lupin whispered as he was leaving. Mrs. Weasley turned her ladle on him. "No harm done, Molly. I was merely helping him. Malfoys are tedious work."

She shook her head at Lupin. "Don't encourage the boy, Remus. Now, sit and eat."

The conversation dimmed as Harry once again went back up the stairs. He passed Ron and Hermione coming down.

"Where you going, Harry? Mum called us for lunch."

"To apologize to Malfoy."

"Ouch. Well, good luck."

_That's two_, Harry thought, keeping a mental count.

"You'd had better get down there. Mrs. Weasley isn't in the greatest mood."

Hermione grabbed his arm as he started upwards. "Where'd you go after Malfoy? We were looking for you."

"I went to talk to Lupin. I'll tell you more about it later, but you guys had the right idea: the 'A' stands for Antonius. Now, you should get down there. I gotta talk to Malfoy."

He left them and went to Malfoy's room, preparing himself to face the worst._ I can't believe I saved that weasel's life. What was I thinking?_

He knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for a response. Malfoy was standing by the window, watching the snow swirling gently outside.

"What if I was naked, Potter?"

Harry glowered at Malfoy's back. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I can see your reflection in the window."

"Oh."

Malfoy turned. "So, what do you want?"

Harry sneered.

"Oh, bravo, Potter. You're quite good at that. Did you take lessons, because as I recall the last time you tried to do that you looked like a frog with bowel problems."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Nice comeback."

"Shut up! I'm not up here because I want to be. I'm up here because I have to be, because I'm supposed to tell you I'm sorry."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that your way of apology? I'm used to much better than that."

"Oh, I suspect your used to people crawling at your feet begging for your forgiveness. The day I crawl at your feet will be the same day we become friends, and I don't see that ever happening. I'm happy not having a father going around on a murderous rampage, and not being buddy-buddy with Voldemort--"

"You know nothing about anything, Potter! Don't even pretend to speak of what you can't understand inside that puny thing you call a brain!"

"I know that your family was one of Voldemort's top supporters, and you expect me to believe that you are here because you wanted to leave the ther side? You are Lucius Malfoy's son! Your father has continuously helped in attempts to kill me, and you are exactly like him! Forgive me if I'm skeptical of you."

Malfoy breathed heavily and his face was white with rage. "I am not my father," he spat. "I suggest you shut your mouth before you no longer have the option to."

Harry clenched his mouth shut, seething with fury from every pore in his body. For some reason, he could not handle himself around Malfoy, even though he really did want to know why Malfoy didn't kill Dumbledore when he had the option to. However, he refused to be mocked by Malfoy and was determined to get one over him.

"Why were you in the Forest?"

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, seeming to have gotten himself under control. "I already told you, but since you choose to disbelieve me I don't know why I should try to explain it to you again."

"Tell me, and don't even think about lying."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Like you'd know if I was lying. You couldn't detect a lie if it was dancing nude in front of you."

"Just tell me!"

"Oooh, temper temper. You'd better get that under control, Potter, otherwise I might be to 'afraid' to tell you my explanation. Yes, I suggest you and Mr. Weasley find a better place to talk next time. The kitchen window is right below mine, and no one thought to close it even though it's bloody winter outside."

Harry clenched his fists. "I'm going to ask you this one time, and one time only: tell me why you were in the Forest."

Malfoy _tsk_ed. "That wasn' really asking, that was more like demanding but without the edge. But, since that's as nice as I think you'll ever get, I might be tempted to tell you, but with one condition."

"What?"

"Have sex with me."

Harry's eyes bulged. "Are you fucking serious, Malfoy?! What makes you think--!" He cut off because he saw Malfoy laughing. "You weren't serious."

Malfoy stopped abruptly. "No, but the look on your face makes me wish I was."

"Malfoy, out of interest for your health, you'd better tell me your reasons for being in the Forest right now!"

"Oh, so you're interested in my health now? How cute. But I think I'm fine. In fact, I think I'm well enough to face the crowd and get some lunch now." He headed for the door. Harry grabbed his arm and pulled Malfoy towards himself.

"You better tell me now, you fucker, before I send you downstairs in pieces."

Malfoy gave his trademark sneer. "Such passion, Potter. I think you'd actually really like to sleep with me. I'm not interested, but thanks anyways."

"I'm not joking around here, Malfoy. You are not going anywhere until you tell me why."

"I already told you, you prick. Even if I say it again you aren't going to believe me. You said so yourself, so why bother?"

"Because it might just save your life."

Malfoy wrenched away from Harry. "You can't frighten me, Potter. I've seen things you can't even imagine and have dealt with things far worse than your anger. So, if you want answers, you're going to have to ask."

Harry threw up his hands in disgust. "Whatever, Malfoy. I already asked, and you still didn't tell me, so I give up. You can go to hell for all I care." He left the room.

"It'd be a smarter move on your behalf to just ask," Malfoy shouted at Harry's retreating figure, but Harry slammed the door on him.

Malfoy kicked the side of the bed. "Fucking Potter!"


End file.
